Leap
by Svart Alfar
Summary: After the New York battle, Bruce needs some time to breathe away from the city. The possibility of controlling the monster inside of him awakens another hope - that he can have people to care about. The team, but maybe in the future - a family? Bruce/OC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The cabin was simple, but fully matched his few needs. The beat up old truck on in the shed allowed him to make trips to the local convenience store once or twice a week – although 'local' may have been pushing it. The trip took about an hour one way.

He hadn't rejected Tony's offer of relocating to the Stark Tower, with its candyland of laboratory luxury, but after the battle in New York he needed some down time. Space to reflect on the fact that he had been able to help. That he hadn't been an additional nightmare in the ravaging of the city that Loki had caused.

He promised that he would be back. If nothing else, it was highly likely that Tony would show up at the cabin one day if the billionaire thought he was taking too long. Tony liked having someone to play with.

The red dust had settled on his truck on the way to the small store. Stretching his back, Bruce walked towards the rugged store front, reviewing his purchase list in his head. Even if you took the scientist out of the lab, you couldn't take the tendency to wander in your own head out of the scientist. This may be why he didn't so much walk through the door as slam the door into the woman on the other side.

For such a rickety door, the force with which it threw her on the floor was surprising. The fact that she was walking with a crutch probably contributed to the almost slapstick fall of the woman, as well as the fairly vocal groan of either pain or surprise that continued when she lay still on the floor.

'Shit, I'm so sorry, are you ok?' Bruce immediately sprung towards the fallen woman, and the hand he stretched out was in no way tentative. He didn't touch people in general, but the clinical touch of a doctor didn't burn his senses. His hand hovered over her shoulder, then her knee when he saw how her body bent and her own hands covered her left knee.

"Fuck!" The fallen woman was bent on one side, apparently not getting up in a hurry.

After a few seconds of looking at her stiff face and closed eyes, Bruce gently tried to remove her clutching fingers from the area.

"Don't clutch it, try to relax the joint. Just breathe for a minute and then maybe I can take a look? Please?"

"Who the fuck are you?" The woman still hadn't opened her eyes, and was speaking through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, I'm Bruce. I'm the guy who tossed you on the floor – and a doctor, which helps when I have to patch up my victims." His voice was a little hoarse, partly from the adrenaline and partly from the fact that he hadn't talked to another person for about eight days.

At this, the woman open first one, then the other eye. She didn't look any happier, but let her hands fall from her leg and slowly sat up – careful not to move her left leg any more than necessary.

"Yeah, I imagine that comes in handy. Just – give me a second, ok?" She took a few deep breaths, then stretched out her hand towards Bruce. "Gimme a lift, lets start there, ok?"

Bruce took her hand and put his other on her elbow for added stability. Her eyes closed for a second as she heaved herself up, but no more groans made it passed her lips.

"I'm, I'm really sorry, I wasn't looking – lets get you outside, there is a bench out there." Bruce glanced at her crutch still on the floor, but decided it would have to wait as there was little chance for her to make it to the bench by herself. The crutch was well used – it didn't look like a temporary loan from a hospital.

"No worries, I fall down all on my own on a regular basis." Once they reached the bench, she sat down with a small sigh and looked up at Bruce apologetic face. "It's nice to have someone to blame this time."

Bruce gave a small half smile at this, and sat down beside her. "Bruce Banner, available scapegoat. Who do I have the pleasure of maiming today?"

"I'm Keene. Look, thanks for helping me sit, but I'll be fine in a bit. If you could just fetch my crutch, I won't keep you." She waived her hand towards the waiting walking aid.

Bruce picked up the crutch, but stopped as he turned back to her. "How long have you been using it? I can't imagine there are many physical therapists here?" He was a little surprised by his bluntness – he wasn't usually one to ask personal questions, so as to not receive any back.

Her eyes met him and narrowed before giving a little sight. "About six months. It's an insurance thing. Physical therapy not covered." Her answer was short and to the point.

Bruce took a closer look at her. Despite the warm weather, she was wearing a baggy blue sweater as well as a bright red scarf. Her eyes were clear and blue, but the smudges under her eyes revealed tiredness stretched over many days, if not weeks or months. He hesitated, but the responsibilities of a doctor won out.

"I wasn't kidding about being a doctor. I really would feel a lot better if I could get a look at your leg. If I made something worse, it's going to be a while before you have a chance to get it checked out." He looked into her eyes and tried to convey both stubbornness and guilt. The guilt part wasn't very hard – he had that down pat.

Keene was quiet and her blue eyes were studying him, making him squirm a little where he stood. Those blue eyes were filled with wariness and suspicion, making him try once more.

"Look, can you honestly say you can drive right now with your leg like this? I'm an hour away, and I can flash the store clerk my ID precluding any chance of you disappearing with a stranger and not returning."

"Well, I hadn't thought of that, but thanks for highlighting the risks of going anywhere with you." Her smile was wry, but he could see that she was considering it.

"I have beer." He tried another smile, and was rewarded with more warmth creeping in to hers.


	2. Unwelcome information

The ride out was silent. He wasn't well practiced in making small talk with strangers anymore, and the proximity of Keene in the car was tangible. She didn't seem very inclined to chat either, so he focused on the road.

When they reached their final destination, he could hear a little huff of surprise from his passenger. "Well, that's an interesting getaway. I like how the helicopter pad doesn't disturb the view of the lake."

It may have been a small cabin in the woods, but it was Tony's cabin in the woods.

"It's… not mine, a friend lent me the key. He… travels a lot. Give me a second, and I'll come lend you a hand down." Bruce busied himself with the bags to preclude any more questions.

When he returned Keene had already clambered down from the truck and was making her way towards the porch. She waved away any offer of assistance from him."I'm fine, you go fetch your knee looking tools, why don't you?"

Bruce allowed a small grunt, but soon returned with his kit. She had stretched her legs out on the step, and was folding up her pants leg. Many years of experience allowed Bruce to not flinch at the sight of her knee. It was a horrid mess of scars, some surgical and some the remains of something very violent. He kept silent as he bent down to look closer at the swollen lower part of the knee.

"Is this new, or is it usually this swollen?" he asked with an even tone.

"It comes and goes, this isn't unusual. I guess they did what they could, there wasn't much a lot left that looked like knee when they started." She didn't look at him or the exposed leg, but there was no heaviness in her words. Just a statement.

"What happened?" he kept his eyes on the knee, prodding the swollen areas gently.

"Car crash. Leg got in the way of some determined metal."

A car crash would definitively do this to a knee, but Bruce frowned when looking further down. The scars on her calf looked too curved, with uneven depth and angles.

"Did they rebuild the cartilage? The cruciate ligament?" The feel of the knee was off, and Bruce gave the crutch a glance. Even with a crutch, she shouldn't be this mobile, and driving long stretches would not be recommended by him or any responsible doctor he knew.

"No, they said there was too little left to work with. But, it bends, and that works for me." Her tone was forceful and light, but not very natural.

Bruce didn't comment, but walked to the kitchen. "Let me get you an ice bag, to help the swelling go down."

This was off. Even if there was nothing of the ligament left, they still could have set up an artificial ligament, making sure the bones didn't grind together – guaranteeing osteoarthritis in only 5-10 years. This sounded like a hatchet job. Bruce removed his glasses, and looked down into his sink. This was not the point of him going away – he was supposed to listen to silence, meditate and rebalance – not resume his career from Calcutta. With a sigh, he retrieved the ice bag and returned to his patient on the porch.

"Keene, this is a poor reconstruction job. I'm not sure what you're doing here – but this knee isn't going to get better. I could call some people – "

"No. That won't be necessary. This was a bad idea." She removed the bag and grabbed for her cane. Her shoulders were tense, but when she looked at his truck she apparently realized her ride was an hours drive away, and remained seated. "Crap."

Bruce scratched his neck and then looked up at her with a little of his old determination. "I can't with good conscience put you back in your car with your knee like that. With that swelling, odds are good it'll lock up while you are driving. I'm really sorry, but…" He put the bag back on her knee. "Lets get the swelling down tonight, you can crash here and I'll give you a ride back tomorrow."

"Fuck. Fuck!" She didn't seem angry at him, which was a relief, but rather at herself.

"First thing tomorrow?" she asked with hard eyes.

"Lets see how it looks tomorrow. Maybe you have someone who can come pick you up?" he asked, rising and refusing to meet her challenge.

"Fuck!"


	3. Chapter 3

AN: oh yeah, disclaimer thingy. Well, I don't own anything, it's all Marvels. Except OC, but that aint making me no monies.

...

It was close to three in the morning when the dulcet tones of AC/DC broke through Bruce's light sleep. Tony wasn't subtle when he messed with peoples' phones.

"What?" Bruce's voice was just on the edge of comprehensible.

"Best bud! Are you missing me yet?" Tony was annoyingly upbeat, and his voice only slightly slurring. Without waiting for the expected sarcastic reply, Tony continued. "Yeah, also JARVIS picked up a lot of chatter in your region, which should be quiet as something really boring. Like soup. You haven't bumped uglies with a blond girl - pretty but sorta angry looking by any chance?"

"No uglies, but I did toss a pretty woman on the ground, and took her home with me. Does that count?" Bruce wasn't one for innuendo, but when offered an opportunity to give one back to Tony, he could not resist.

"Gold star for the cave man! Some minus points for screening though, you couldn't have picked a girl who didn't get her car tagged and possibly booby trapped a couple of hours ago?"

Bruce gave up on going back to sleep, sat up and rubbed his free hand over his face a few times.  
"So, what do I do now?"

"Well, either you toss her out on her likely shapely behind, or you keep her there and out of sight until me and JARVIS do some more advanced googling to figure out what you have landed yourself in. Basically, you have to ponder how hot you really think this babe is. In light of your hilariously long dry streak, I'm naturally voting for the second option. Also, I have been a little bored." Tony was basically leering through the telephone, but sounded enthusiastic over getting to play some more snoop.

Even though Bruce was genuinely ambivalent of letting trouble into what was supposed to be his serene time off, he wasn't comfortable with throwing the semi handicapped woman to any sort of wolves, without knowing if she had a chance to get away from nefarious intentions.  
"She wasn't keen on staying here over night, but I'll try for another 48 hours. 24 hours minimally. You'll call me as soon as you have an update?"

"Will do. I'll activate your perimeter alarm, and hook JARVIS up to your local mainframe."

"I have a perimeter alarm? And a mainframe?" Bruce was partly annoyed and partly resigned - of course there was a JARVIS hookup.

"Don't be silly. And make sure you tap that before someone takes her out!"

Bruce hung up, no longer in the mood to trade lewd quips with the perpetual teenager. His eyes strained to see anything in the darkness, but without the constant light pollution of the city, there was very little to make out. With a sigh, he groped for the drawer in the night table, and pulled out a tiny in-ear communicator. 'This is going to be a bitch to sleep in.'

"JARVIS, you hear me?" he quietly murmured.

"Of course, sir. I will alert you to any and all developments regarding the unidentified woman. May I suggest a report of car thievery to induce you guest to extend her stay?"

"Uhm, thanks, JARVIS, I didn't know how to play that one out. Goodnight."

"Good night, sir."

...

Three hours later, Bruce was joined by the breakfast table by what looked like a limping rag doll. Keene was clearly not a morning person. 'Thank god for small miracles' Bruce thought while he took a long drag of his tea. The ember of new control was not enough to introduce coffee into a regular feature.

"Keene. I hope you slept well, cause I've got some not so great news." He glanced up at his guest as she dipped her nose into the freshly made coffee he had prepared for her - the only way he could think of to soften the blow of the admittedly false new he was about to impart to her.

She looked at him through narrowed eyes, prepared to distrust him on pure principle. "What? And, good morning."

"I called the local store this morning - checking on whether my delayed order had come in. Apparently, there were some disturbances during the night and... well, your truck is gone." Bruce kept his eye on his tea, not trusting his ability to lie to the penetrating gaze coming from the opposite side of the table.

"You are shitting me. Tell me this is just your morning humor. Haha?" Keene's voice was low and incredulous.

"It's likely to turn up in a day or two, odds are it was taken for a joyride and will turn up at one of the local watering holes when the weekend hits." Bruce tried to soften the blow, and put a relatively short time line to preclude the ambition to find a long term solution - like a new car or hitchhiking. "Think of it as giving your knee a tiny little breather - I saw that your are still limping quite heavily."

"Shit. Shit. Fuck." Her fists were balled and knuckles white. She lifted her head suddenly and leaned forward. "How sure are they that it was just some local hoodlums?"

Bruce met her eyes and tried to sound reassuring. Was she worried about the people Tony had picked up chatter from? "Fairly sure. It happens with some regularity, and there was some generalized wanton destruction around the are, complete with a lot of beer cars strewn around."

Bruce continued "If you would stay around for the day, it would actually help me out. I've got some fixing to do on the cabin which is hard to do by myself. In return, I can give you some rehab exercises for your knee. If you haven't changed your mind, and want me to call some people back in civilized land to make an appointment?"

She was shaking her head determinedly. "No, please, that won't be necessary. Some more ice packs will do just fine. And maybe - breakfast?"

Thankful that she seemed to buy his story, Bruce smiled a half smile."Breakfast I can do. How much bacon?"

"All of it?"


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Still not mine. Still Marvel's. Everyone knows these disclaimers do not actually have any legal validity, right?

...

He was very unclear of how his plan of letting her hold a flashlight whilst he tinkered with the wiring beneath the porch translated into her swinging away at an axe, producing firewood at an alarming rate. He hadn't even known there was an axe on the premises, but his initial protest of not aggravating her knee had fallen on selectively deaf ears. She had been at it for two hours now.

Possibly, his inquiry regarding her given name had not gone down well. As had the question of where she was going. The had simply walked over to one of the large sheds, and reappeared with an axe a few minutes later. It had been a little worrying until she veered off to the back of the shed, where there apparently was some wood to be demolished.

Bruce scratched the back of his neck. No new information from Tony or JARVIS, and he had made no headway. He was now sitting on his porch enjoying some cool ice tea, while listening to the steady rhythm of the falling axe. What was he supposed to do now? He had walked past her a few times, giving her an opportunity to stop and talk, but had only succeeded in confirming that the view of her toned and sweaty shoulders in a blue tank top had interesting effects on his heart beat. Well, interesting and terrifying.

He had not let himself look or contemplate alluring females for a very long time. Tony's colorful description of 'hilariously long streak' wasn't wrong. It could be counted in years. And not on just one hand. While he could handle medical emergencies and 'pointy things', touch was personal. Touch involving any removal of clothes had been on the same list as global emergencies, but at some point during the day Bruce had allowed himself to look. And then contemplate. It was a red letter day.

That being said, there was a time and a place. Well, there might be a time and a place. That wasn't during a time sensitive information gathering on a woman who may or may not be hunted by either the bad of the good guys. Bruce's odds were on bad guys - otherwise Tony would have seen something in the vast databases of SHIELD. Before he could even contemplate resurrecting any game he might have had a very long time ago, perhaps reducing the immediate potential threat was in order. And maybe finding out her full name.

Bruce's conclusion was firm for a full nine minutes. The tenth minute, Keene landed her behind on the porch, lay down and peered at him, silently requesting his glass of ice tea with her outstretched hand. He bent down and shared his cold drink silently, trying and failing to notice a pearl of perspiration making its way across and then pooling beneath her collar bone.

"Thanks." Her breathless voice did very little to re-establish the previously set priorities in his mind.

"You think I have enough now? We might be headed into a nuclear winter or something."  
The comment earned him both a glare and half a smile, which he returned with his own hesitant half smile, making one full between them.

After draining his glass, she walked back into the cabin, and after a minute he heard the shower starting. With a surprising spring in his step he fetched some sweat pants and a t-shirt in his room, before laying them outside the bathroom door. Taking the opportunity, he quickly walked back outside and dialed Tony.

"Bruce here. Any news?"

"Yes and no. Any gossip for me?"

"What have you got?" Bruce was not to be side-tracked.

"Well, I doubt anyone besides me could have dug up anything this quickly, but this is what I've got so far. The chatty boys seem to be an off-shoot of Blackwater. And when I say off-shoot, I mean that these boys were too indiscriminate in both type of clients and types of missions. So, no guys to bring home to meet the parents. Mostly wet work, and nasty at that." Even Tony sounded sobered by the information relayed.

"How, why - do you have any info why they are interested in her?" Bruce took a few calming breaths; he was surprised at how this seemed to rouse his ire to a fairly high level. Not very good.

"Not a lot, her named popped something about Afghanistan. Looks like she may have been deployed there for two years, but I can't seem to find in what capacity - marine, army or something more clandestine. Which probably means the latter. Likely is she pissed someone off there. You got anything on your end?"

"If there is a nuclear winter, she's the girl to make the firewood. Also, she has had a fairly serious accident six to ten months ago, obliterating her knee as well as given her some fairly nasty scarring on the same leg but also on her back." He had gotten a small look during the tree destruction.

"Sounds about right, all trace of her whereabouts end about eight months ago, apart from a end of service notice. So, what you wanna do now? I'd recommend moving to a new safe house. How about here, I want to meet the girl who makes you take an interest in something other than cellular biology and world endings!"

"Apart from the fact that she trusts me about as far as she could throw the Other Guy, why would you bring a potential target of a wet works team to your home? Are your that bored?" Bruce was incredulous, why would someone be that inviting to risk, ignoring the fact that he hadn't run for the hills himself, something fairly out of his own character.

"It sounds like fun. What other reason is there?"

Shaking his head, Bruce disconnected the call.

...

Realizing the shower had been off for quite some time, Bruce went in search of his guest. She was found in his offered clothing drying her hair on a purple, lush towel on the porch on the other side of the house. 'So, not the social butterfly' Bruce thought without a trace of irony.

"You hiding, or do I smell that badly?"

Ignoring him, she simply brushed the towel more vigorously through her hair.  
"You hear anything about my truck yet?"

"Not yet. Keene... uh, any chance you could answer one question? I have picked up on your very... subtle dislike of them, but this one is fairly important."

Her movement stopped. "What?"

"What would you like for dinner?" He smiled at the back of her head when she resumed the toweling. He couldn't remember smiling this may times in one day for quite some time. This quiet, suspicious woman made for very nice, if disconcerting, company.

"I make a mean fried fish." she finally offered.

...

Setting the table, he kept glancing her way. She was humming. In all probability without conscious knowledge, which made it all the more adorable. It was a slow but upbeat tune, something about blue skies, water and seas. It was... homey.

'Crap' Bruce thought. '24 hours, and I want to smell her hair.' He thought of the priority list he had made earlier that day, and looked at his hands. Life was short, and he had played it safe for so very long. He had made no progress until a few weeks ago, when the need of his friends had made him take a chance. Maybe it was time for another one.

He took his glasses off, and put them on the table next to the steaming bowl of potatoes. Straightening his back, he walked over to the stove, stretching his arm out to the spice shelf above it, stepping close so to Keene who was busy frying the fish that he could feel the heat from her back.

She froze for a moment, then with a little jump moved to the side, which would turn out to be a bad idea. Her weak knee couldn't hold the sudden weight, and simple folded. Bruce caught her with his left arm, and hurried to move the pan before lifting her legs with the other arm and quickly carrying her to the couch, where he deposited her.

She was stiff as a board in his arms, but from the pain of her knee or from his proximity, he couldn't tell.

"Pain or just sudden malfunction?" he asked perfunctorily, sitting down next to her.

"No pain. It just... folded." She answered in a clipped tone.

"They may find your truck within the hour, but Keene... you can't drive. If you don't care about your own safety, there are other people on the roads." He kept emotion out of his voice, trying to reason with her.

"That's not your fucking call!" Color was rising on her face, and her body lost its rigidity. "I'm not your patient, or your friend, and in no way do you have any say in what I do!"

"It's not just about you, is it?" Bruce lifted an eyebrow and looked at her from the corner of his eye.

She was silent for a moment, and a look of despair crossed her face before it became blank again.  
"I need transport. I need my car. It might not be the smart thing... but I have to move."

Bruce turned his body towards her and lowered his voice. "I can help you. But you need to tell me what you are running from."

"I'm not running from anything." Her denial was immediate.

"No one leaves the hospital with that kind of knee, not to go out on the road in a beat up truck and a duffel bag. No one who doesn't have to." His hand twitched, as he wanted to put her hand in his, but stopped himself. She was not in a mood to tolerate any more physical proximity.

The silence was longer this time. He could tell she was questioning what to tell him, if anything. After ten minutes of tense silence she apparently had decided.

"I have someone looking for me. Someone I would rather not find me, ok? I have to keep moving." She wouldn't look at him, but he was studying her intently. The words were squeezed from between stiff jaws, as if she was forcing them through a tight barrier of silence.

"There are always options. I can give you some." He let his voice betray the intensity of the conversation this time.

Finally, she looked at him. "But how can I trust you?" Her ramrod posture had fallen, and the sloping shoulders emphasized the tired shadows in her face.

"I've got some good references."


	5. Travel arrangements

AN: Don't own anything. Go Marvel, go.  
Yeah, also, we are now switching perspectives.

...

"When you said good references, you weren't shitting around." She was incredulous. Her host had fiddled with his phone, and 35 minutes later, she had been treated to a short video call - no camera on her end - with Captain bloody America, basically saying that Banner was a good guy. A guy to be trusted to not fuck her over. Even though he was military, her jaded mind couldn't bring herself to fully discount that sort of endorsement. If nothing else, she could conclude that Banner wasn't part of the group hunting her. She was willing to go that far.

"So, what are you proposing?" She had made a decision to trust him for an additional 12 hours. After that, who knew?

His brown eyes turned to her, then looked out the window towards the helipad. "Are you afraid of flying? I've got transport coming in about 15 minutes."

She simply raised an eyebrow and gathered her shoulder length brown hair into a ponytail. "Transport where?"

He turned back to Keene and scratched his head, further messing up his black and pepper hair. "Yeah.. my friend offered to put us up until we figure out your... situation."

Hearing the open ended reply, she got that restless look back in her eyes. She was not about to put herself in any position of dependency, not make debts she had no intention or way of repaying. "Look, why don't you just drop me off at some point of civilization? I can take it from there."

"Keene..." Bruce looked obviously frustrated, but she couldn't really figure out why. She almost flinched when he sat down by her side on the couch, but caught herself in time. Her shoulder nearly burned when he after a moments hesitation put his large, calloused hand on her. "Give a little. I'm not asking for your life story or buying you a house. I'm asking for a little bit of time to make you able to fight whatever battle you have found yourself in."

She shrugged off his hand and walked over to the window where he had previously stood. "I... Why?"

"You want the truth? Because I have been where you are. And I did it on my own. Until I couldn't any more." He was no longer looking at the floor, or stooping his shoulders. His gaze was direct, and somehow it sucked the light from the room, until it seemed he was the only real thing in the cabin. "I dug myself deeper until some friends came and helped me out. I didn't want that help, but it made all the difference."

"I'd like to be your friend."

She didn't have an answer, any rebuttal to his challenge. "I'll take a shower before we leave." She could feel his eyes burning into her back when she walked into the bathroom.

...

She knew she didn't have much time, but leaned her forehead against the cold shower tiles for two minutes, letting the water rinse away some of the tension in her shoulders. Looking down at her torso and legs, she reminded herself why trusting people was a bad idea. The thick, ropey scars were not red anymore, but the lesson would be carved into her skin for the rest of her life. She didn't think Bruce represented any direct threat to her health, but forming attachments and leaving traces in other peoples' lives were not a good idea. It made tracking her easier, and it put those people in harms way. She had learned that when she reached out to her sister. Her sister. She muffled a sob, but determinedly pushed the thought aside. There was no point going over the past - the only was was to look towards the next few days, the next pit stop on her run.

A knocking on the door cut off her train of thought. "Keene, transport's here."

"I'm coming."

She could hear the dull roar of the helicopter, and hurried to dry off her dark locks. They were not in very good shape, but she didn't really have patience for luxuries like conditioner anymore. Pulling on her khakis and sweatshirt, she steeled her shoulders and walked out the door.

"Got your duffel?" Bruce had cleared out any perishables in the kitchen, and was carrying his own threadbare bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm good to go."

It wasn't the first time she climbed aboard a helicopter, but the reptilian part of her brain still insisted on ducking under the blades, as if they weren't way above where even the tallest women would never be able to reach them.

"Tony? Um, when did you learn to drive one of these things?" Bruce sounded surprised. Was Tony the guy who had lent the cabin to him?

"It's not that hard - JARVIS guides me through if we run into any tricky bits." Tony had a full face smile going on, apparently loving his new toy. "It's not half as fun as my red ride, but I didn't think you'd be comfortable riding piggyback on me the whole way home."

"No. No, that was probably a correct assessment. This isn't my idea of fun in any case."

"You worry too much. If you get too exited over our reunion, you can just jump out the door and met up with us later in New York."

"Good plan."

Keene was reeling a little bit. This was Tony? Bruce's Tony was Tony Stark, megalomaniac and self-proclaimed superhero? "Interesting company you keep, Banner. Will the easter bunny meet up with us when we get to wherever we are going?"

"That reminds me." Tony turned and looked a the brunette in the back with curiosity brimming in his eyes. "You must the woman who convinced the big boy to come out of this stupid meditation trip. What's your secret? It's the bossy attitude, isn't it? I knew it, big boy wouldn't be able to resist some strict and naked discipline, am I right?"

"I..."

"Either that or you've got some serious pouting force going on - the damsel in distress play, right?" Tony was clearly enjoying himself, while Banner had covered his face in his hands and was making soft moans that sounded like 'shut up shut up shut up'.

"So basically you balance Banner out by bring the complete asshole to the mix?" Keene would not be embarrassed by the playboy, but was seriously reconsidering getting into the helicopter. This man would not possibly be helpful in keeping a low profile.

A snigger could be heard from beneath Banners hands, and the pink shade of his ears dimmed. "Keene, met Tony. Tony, shut up." Keene's refusal to be embarrassed seemed to have helped the doctor gain back his own dignity.

"Sounds about right." Tony replied. "Although, I like to think I also bring a certain pizazz that he is clearly lacking. Man has got no game. In other news, I must commend us all on excellent timing. JARVIS has just informed me of a perimeter breach by the lakeside. No worries."

At his last words, a dull roar could be heard in the distance, and a smoke pillar rose from where they had come from.

"What the fuck!" Keene exclaimed.

"Well, I just assumed you didn't want to leave any traces. Was I wrong?" Tony replied.

Keene looked at him for a bit, then turned towards Bruce in the front who just shrugged his shoulders.

"You owe me a drink, Keene. I had some nice vintages in that cellar."


	6. Touch

AN: Don't own anything. All props to Marvel.

...

The *thump* *thump* *thump* of the helicopter seemed to lull both the men, one into a slumber and the other into an uncharacteristic period of silence. Keene guessed she shouldn't complain, after close to 45 minutes of ridiculous monologuing and questions making her clam up and Bruce to stare fixedly into the folded hands in his lap. So far she had learned that they were heading towards the mostly empty Stark Tower, that Bruce was desperately single – Tony's choice of words – and that she would have some more 'alluring' clothes waiting for her when they reached their destination. All in green for some reason.

However, the space left empty of words tossed in her direction wasn't welcome. The rhythmic noise of the helicopter seemed to wind her tighter and tighter by each revelation of the rotor. Her hands were clammy, and she could feel cold sweat soaking the back of her tank top, soon reaching through the sweatshirt. She had tried closing her eyes and imagine being somewhere else, but had hastily reversed her decision. The darkness behind her eyelids was too inviting a screen for old scenes to play out. She fished for something, anything, to talk about, but her jaws were wired shut, and would not be moved.

It took an additional thirty minutes for the silence to be broken. "One minute to our destination. I had a room pimped for your pleasure on the floor beneath mine, one of the bots will show you the way. I've got some bonding exercises to do with my science bro." Tony didn't break his concentration on the landing platform, fully rebuilt from the chitauri battle.

"Fine. Thanks." Keene clutched her duffel close to her and disembarked the helicopter, following the weird pixar-looking rolling droid to the elevator. She didn't glance behind her, but kept her eyes trained on the door ahead.

When she reached her assigned room, she looked around and swore when she couldn't find a lock on her door. She took the duffel into the bathroom, locked the door and started the shower. Sitting down on the floor, her back to the wall furthest from the bathroom door, she opened the bag and pulled out a nearly full bottle of vodka. The first gulp made her cough, but the following were less of a hassle. She could still hear the helicopter, but here in the bathroom she could also feel the scratchy texture of the black bag over her head, the chafing rope around her wrists and ankles, as well as an echo of the agonizing pain of her ruined knee. In her mind, she was back there.

…

Bruce and Tony had initially planned on waiting on eating until Keene returned, but after forty-five minutes Tony broke down and launched towards the meatball subs waiting on the table. A long draft on the beer later, he opened his mouth. "So, hot enough I guess, if you got your eyes on that whole hot latina thing. That your thing?"

"Tony, not all decisions by other people are made on the basis of physical attraction. She is hunted, and I thought… I thought maybe I could help."

"And this has absolutely nothing to do with you wanting to bury your hair in those brown locks and having a weird metaphysical threesome?"

Bruce's answer was a few seconds too late to be fully convincing. "No. She needs help, and for the first time in a long time I thought I could do more than put on a Band-Aid or give some penicillin."

"Hmm. Nope, not credible. Don't get me wrong, let me applaud your first strutting steps. Want some pointers?"

"From you? It took you how many years to land Pepper?" Bruce's snigger was almost hidden behind the large sandwich.

"Harsh, bro. Other topic. JARVIS had no luck so far getting further on who hired the hunters. Best guess is someone connected to or in Afghanistan, based on the pattern of other activities stamped by the same group."

"Makes sense, if she was in the military, she could easily have served there. Maybe saw something she shouldn't have?"

"Or did something." Tony wasn't one to presume innocence before proven such.

"Cynic." Bruce said with an almost fond smile.

"Puppy." Tony's smile was equally warm.

The men resumed sandwich oriented activities for a while, and Tony had drained two bottles before they spoke again.

"JARVIS, what is taking our enigmatic guest so long?" Tony waved his hands vaguely towards the elevator.

"The shower is still running, sir." JARVIS smooth British voice had no clear point of origin.

Tony looked at his watch. "For like, an hour and a half? How clean can one girl get?"

"An active shower does not mean that she is thus occupied. She could be otherwise engaged, but require the privacy that the noise the shower provides." the ever logical butler suggested.

The men exchanged glances. That didn't sound very promising. "Tony, let me go check. No need to call the cavalry just because she likes your water pressure."

"I'm not the cavalry. I'm the general, the point man, the spear head." Tony protested, but sat back down after a look from Bruce. "Ok, ok, if you want to surprise your maiden naked in the shower, that's your call."

"Yes, 'cause two people barging into her showering would be much better." Bruce threw back at him walking towards the elevator.

The short ride down saw a frown return to Bruce's features. When he didn't get any reply knocking on her door repeatedly, he hesitated but opened it slowly. "Keene? You in there? We got some food ready, and this time it doesn't even require utensils."

There was no reply. He shuffled into the room, and could hear the water in the en suite bathroom. With a sigh he closed his eyes and knocked on the door. "Keene? It's Bruce. Are you ok in there? I really don't want to have to come in." When there was still no audible reply, he opened the door slightly and glanced in. After a second, he opened the door fully to take in the scene.

Keene was sitting on the floor, a half empty vodka bottle in her hand, sweat dripping down her face and eyes glassy, unseeing. She was rocking back and forth, and tiny moans were coming from between her gritted jaws. "Yeah, ok, not a mermaid then." Bruce slowly walked to the sitting woman, and sat down beside her a little way away. Gently he pried the bottle from her fingers and put it out of reach. When he gently put his hand on her tightly clenched fist, she flinched violently, and threw herself out of his reach.

"Hey, hey, its ok. It's just me, Bruce, remember?" Bruce slowly slid towards her again, mindful to not touch her when he reached her. "You're at Stark Tower, in New York. You're safe, and I'm not a threat to you." He held out a hand, but stopped before he reached her hand. "I'm gonna take your hand, and that's fine, because I'm your friend and not a danger, ok?"

Bruce lightly put his hand on the top of her fist, and stroked his thumb over her wrist. "I'm just going to sit here, with you, and you decide if you want to talk, ok?" The touch didn't make her flinch this time, but a small keening sound came from her throat. Suddenly her arm shot out, and the hand Bruce had been holding was clenched in his purple shirt. He put his hand back on hers, but didn't try to pry her fingers loose. "That's ok, you hold on to me. I'm right here."

Her breaths seemed to be slowing down from the marathon pace from when he entered the bathroom. She was no longer rocking back and forth, and the steel wire tension seemed to be leaving her body. Her eyes were closing, and it was apparent that the struggle of the last ninety minutes was having a toll on her. After a little while, her breaths had smoothed out, and it seemed as if she was sleeping. Either that, or the consumed vodka had taken its toll once her adrenaline had petered out. Loosening her fingers from his shirt, Bruce stood up then softly scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed in the other room. When he tried to extract himself from her, however, her arm shot up again and clutched around his arm.

Bruce looked around the room, but there was no help to be found. He awkwardly lowered himself into the bed, whereupon Keene curled into him, pressing her face into his chest.

His senses were flooding with input. This was more physical intimacy than he had had in a very long time, and he initially focused on his breathing, making sure it was nice and steady, and his pulse not reaching any dangerous levels. After a while, he noticed the subtle scent of her hair tickling his nose. The weight of her arm, and the warmth of her skin woke something within him, a form of hunger. A possessive growl in the back of his mind startled him. "Seems we're both shit out of luck now." He sighed.


End file.
